Diary of a Wealthy Genius
by Mercuric
Summary: The rich don't always have easy, happy lives.


Disclaimer: _The Avengers_ isn't mine. No copyright infringement intended.

Tag(s): Female Tony Stark, Not Canon Complaint, Off-Screen Harm to Children

* * *

**"Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars." – Kahlil Gibran**

* * *

It's 2012, and Tony falls.

..

It's 1974, and Howard breaks about a dozen air traffic laws—he's the military's top weapons contractor, so really, it's not like they'd lock him up for it, but he's nice enough that he still goes through the motions of bribing the appropriate authorities to make up for it—to make it in time for the birth of his first child.

Natasha Margaret Stark is born, and she's the most perfect thing he's ever fucking laid eyes on, the Cube included.

Obie tells him that he's already letting his parental instincts cloud his judgment because how can this wiggly, pink little thing be more beautiful than an energy source that has more potential than even _nuclear power?_

But Natasha's grabbed his thumb with a strong grip—Howard insists that it's a strong grip—and he's too entranced by her to have heard a word his best friend said.

..

It's 2012, and the doctors at SHIELD's med-bay work frantically to keep Tony alive. Hours later, a Dr. Mansen comes out of the operating room and tells a room full of superheroes that the likelihood of Tony ever waking up is slim. He tells them that it's a miracle she's even alive at the moment.

He doesn't tell them _why_ it's a miracle. He doesn't tell them that it's not the fall that should've killed her, but the device in her chest. He doesn't tell them that she should've died the _minute_ she underwent surgery to get that device implanted in her chest.

(He's seen the scars on her chest and her x-rays. No one else had—there was a very detailed contract SHIELD had to sign in order to be allowed to provide Ms. Stark with medical service—and unless he dies, he'll be the only one to know. He'll be the only one to see those x-rays and those scars and see what any doctor worth his salt would've seen: a surgery done hastily and without proper equipment. Likely even without anesthetics.)

He'll go home late that night, and the first thing he'll do is go for the liquor cabinet and drink. His wife will stop him from finishing his second bottle and ask him if something happened. He'll say no, but he'll hold her close and bury his face in her chest, all too aware that if he was doing this to Ms. Stark—not that he'd ever do such a thing; she's his patient, and more importantly, he's _married_—he'd be feeling cold metal instead of warm flesh.

He'll thank God that he's only a doctor and wasn't ever the best weapons engineer of his time.

..

It's 1976, and Natasha's ignoring him. Every time Howard calls her name, she doesn't respond and will only walk away.

It breaks his heart because has he already failed as a father? Does his daughter already hate him?

He frets and frets and frets until the worry and panic bleeds into his work life, and Obie, after Howard almost loses a contract because of the worry-panic, slaps him upside the head. He then proceeds to bring Natasha into the study and asks why she's been ignoring her father.

She doesn't reply. She's never spoken a word, and it should worry Howard, except she looks straight into his eyes, a little frown tugging at her mouth, her big eyes sparking with displeasure. And just like all those other times she didn't speak, he suddenly knows what's wrong.

"Tony," he calls her—it's the name he planned to give her if she was born a boy—and he almost cries with relief when she smiles a little and nods.

He quickly regains composure—he refuses to look anything but cool in front of his daughter—and nods his acquiesce, accepting it without question because this means she doesn't hate him. She just wants a different name. He can do nicknames, he can.

It never occurs to him to ask why she's so adamant about being called Tony, a _boy's_ name.

..

It's 2012, and the Avengers find out exactly what the hell Tony's been housing in her chest. Jarvis tells them every gruesome detail, from the dimensions of the arc reactor to how bones, muscles, and organs had to be taken out and/or moved to make room for a hunk of metal that no one should've ever even _considered_ putting into a living human's chest, much less one who wasn't first drugged up to the gills and then some with the best possible medication.

Steve looks at the x-rays, but he doesn't see them. He sees Bucky, lying on the operating table, and he sees the other POWs he rescued from Hydra throughout the War. He sees their bodies, twisted, deformed, and utterly _ruined,_ and the hell they went through. He throws up.

Both Natasha and Clint excuse themselves and leave on a top-secret mission. They'll return nearly two and a half weeks later, and when they do, the surviving members of the Ten Ring will have been mysteriously and brutally killed in their cells. The World Security Council will be outraged, and Fury will nod as though he completely agrees with them, but secretly give his two agents a bonus and a paid vacation.

Bruce turns quiet, his face pale and void of any sign of green. He remembers what Tony said in the Helicarrier—_A sardonic smirk, slim hands on hips. "The Hulk's your arc reactor."_—and wonders if she's ever tried and failed to get rid of hers. Given the hole in her chest, he doubts she could've even tried.

Thor is scarily still and scarily quiet. His eyes, which are always so expressive, are diamond hard and icy cold, reminding them that Thor was once a battle-lusting warrior. Outside, the winds roar as dark clouds roll in. Thunder immediately follows, and New York experiences the worst thunderstorm to date.

The next day, a super-powered criminal duo will attack New York, thinking that the Avengers will be easier to defeat now that Iron Man's gone. The young couple will realize early on in the ensuing battle how dead _wrong_ they were and will surrender another twenty minutes in. They will be so traumatized by how brutal the Avengers fought that for the rest of their lives they'll follow the law to the tee.

The reporter covering the battle will say that without Natasha Stark to keep them in line, the Avengers may be out of control, and isn't that just ironic?

The Hulk will loom over the reporter and her cameraman and tell them in no uncertain terms that Metal Man's name is _Tony_ Stark and that Hulk will _smash_ them if they talk bad about her again.

The YouTube video of the confrontation, if it could even be called that, will have over a million hits the day it's uploaded, partly because both the reporter _and_ the cameraman have wet themselves in the towering presence of the Hulk and partly because the romantics will see this as a case of Beauty and the Beast, sans the bestiality. Sort of.

..

It's 1978, and Tony builds a circuit board from scratch. She shows it to her father, beaming with pride and fidgeting as she waits for his opinion on her creation.

But her father doesn't look at the circuit board. Instead, he takes one look at her hands, her scratched and grease-covered hands, and tells her to stop. That a girl's hands should be smooth and soft and that what she's doing is a _man's_ job.

He doesn't realize that she's only trying to follow in his footsteps because by age four, she's already given up on her mother.

..

It's 1978, and Tony wakes up in a hospital.

Howard is sitting next to her and jumps to his feet as soon as her eyes open. There's a question in her eyes, but he only tells her that it's okay and that she's safe. He tells her he's sorry—so damn _sorry_—he took her tools away from her and that she's free to build whatever she wants.

She smiles, so small and shy that it makes him fall in love with her all over again, and she goes back to sleep.

He doesn't.

In the two weeks she's been in the hospital, Howard hasn't slept for more than two or three hours at a time because every time he closes his eyes, all he sees is his baby girl lying by the wall of her room, blood pooling by her head and sliding down the wall. He sees the patch of blood on the wall from where the blood's sliding down, and he knows that if he stood her up, that patch would align with her head.

He never dares to take engineering away from her ever again, never dares to even _think_ it. He learns to accept that his perfect little baby girl will enter an industry where men will scorn her and try to verbally tear her apart for being better than them, for being so much younger than them, and for being a woman.

Later that day, he goes in front of the press and announces that he fully supports equal rights for women. He doesn't really give a shit about it—he's always held a neutral position when it comes to the civil rights movements—but if he can make a world where women are equal to men, then maybe his baby girl's future won't be so difficult.

He donates a shitload of money to the organizations against Obie's advice because even he knows that the ERA won't be adopted. It's too late for that, and there're too many obstacles in the Congress—politicians, in his experience, have too much shit from the civilians to deal with to actually _do_ anything—so he donates money to the candidates he knows have no particular objections to equal rights. Over the years, they earn seats in their state congresses or whatever body of government their states have, and the ERA slowly begins to be adopted into the state constitutions.

New York, of course, is the first to do so.

He also _really_ starts trying to make SI into a freaking empire. He'll make the Stark name so damn powerful that no one will _dare_ lay a finger on his baby girl. Obie doesn't mind that he's suddenly taking his business a lot more seriously or that he's pushing for the company to be globalized.

He doesn't realize that by trying to build a whole new world and a powerful empire, he's leaving behind the very person he's trying to protect.

He doesn't realize that by trying to build a whole new world and a powerful empire, he may be painting an even bigger target on his daughter's back.

He doesn't realize that behind the little smiles his baby girl gives him, she's never felt lonelier.

..

It's 2012, and Steve asks Jarvis about Afghanistan.

Natasha and Clint have come back a few days ago, and the super soldier sees this as the perfect time to learn more about their teammate. He doesn't see it as invading her privacy like he once would have because he knows that given the choice, Tony will never tell them. Tony will never tell them anything of her past or anything that has any importance to her because he suspects that she's never really told the truth before, at least nothing of any real significance. Everything she's ever done or said in her life has been covered up by so many layers of lies and misdirection that he wonders if she even knows what the truth is anymore.

They all learn about the ambush, the bomb, and the surgery. They learn about a doctor who introduced himself only as Yinsen and about the torture she endured. They learn how Yinsen managed to convince their captors that being the slut that she is, sex wouldn't be torture for her; it'd be _pleasure_, so really, touching her in any sexual way wouldn't benefit them. They learn that Afghanistan's why she's stopped drinking—three months in a cave in the middle of a desert without access to even the smallest drop of alcohol to drink tend to put alcoholics through hellish withdrawal symptoms—and they learn that the people she burned to death in the little camp weren't the first people she's killed.

At the end of the story, Natasha and Clint express their regret for not making those Ten Rings bastards suffer more.

This time, Bruce leaves for the forest behind the mansion, already growing and turning green, and Thor joins him. For the next few hours, Natasha, Clint, and Steve will hear booms and roars and crashes.

Steve calmly and stoically asks for a recount of Natasha and Clint's last mission, knowing the gist what they did but unaware of the details. He listens to their report in silence and with a small, grim frown, but he doesn't rebuke them, doesn't say that they shouldn't have killed out of vengeance no matter how justified said vengeance was.

He remains silent even when Jarvis pipes in with his own story of how he'd utterly _destroyed_ the Ten Rings.

Natasha is impressed and has no problem admitting it. Clint, on the other hand, asks if that's why the prisoners were so afraid of technology that they even switched out their light fixtures for _kerosene lamps._

Jarvis is all too glad to say yes.

..

It's 1980, and Howard's blown away by the pure _genius_ that his daughter exhibits.

The engine she built from scratch is absolutely _beautiful,_ and what's more, it's a hell lot more efficient than the ones currently in the market.

He tiptoes around the tools and leftover scraps of metal and wires on the floor of her room to gently lift her up and put her to bed. He tucks her in and kisses her good night before silently leaving the room. He resolves to talk to her about the engine tomorrow morning, mentally moving around some of his early morning meetings—Obie would probably kill him for it, but this is _important_—and promptly falls face-first onto his bed.

The next day, he wakes up late, and Obie pushes him out the door without even letting him get a cup of coffee. Two hours later, he asks Obie to tell Tony that he's so damn proud of her because his coffee-deprived brain forgot to do just that before he left. But when Obie goes to Tony and sees the engine, he plans.

The next day, he'll come to Stark Mansion again to wake up Howard so that the man won't be late—he swears the man can't wake up early to save his life—and he'll bring with him the blueprints of the weapons SI's R&D are currently developing. He'll show them to Tony and smile when he notices that she intrinsically understands them.

Obie will convince Howard to let Tony design weapons for SI—_"So that father and daughter can work side-by-side and spend more time together, of course. I mean, the two of you haven't had a good father-daughter bonding day in years!"_—and Tony will learn to design weapons as Howard makes SI a global power to be reckoned with.

Of course, no one but he and Howard will know that a six-year-old is designing some of SI's best weapons, and of course, Obie will make Tony build prototypes of her designs to prove their effectiveness before going to R&D with them.

(And no one but Obie knows that Tony builds those prototypes. As far as Howard knows, Tony only knows the _concepts_ of weapon designing and nothing more. He has no idea that when Obie and Tony have their "bonding time," Tony's demonstrating her prototypes in a deserted field because building successful prototypes gives insight into designing weapons that concepts alone won't give her.)

Sometimes, Howard and Tony will spend nights collaborating on their designs and prototypes, and while Howard will think of the experience as bonding—Obie says so, and the man hasn't lied to him before—Tony will learn a life lesson. She'll learn that people will always be busy for her and that if she wants them by her side, if she wants them to spend time with her, she needs to build and create for them.

She'll tell Obie this, and he'll take advantage of the situation to tell her, "Life is for the useful, Tony."

..

It's 2012, and it's September 13.

More specifically, it's the anniversary of the Chitauri Invasion and the day the Avengers came together as a team.

Tony's been in a coma for the past month.

Needless to say, when Natasha suggests that they push back the celebration until Tony's well enough to leave the hospital—because they'll fucking _tie her to the goddamn bed_ if that's what it takes to keep her in the med-bay, or at least the infirmary in the mansion—the rest of the Avengers readily agree.

Pepper comes by with expensive bottles of aged wine, and they all drink themselves to a stupor, even Bruce, and share stories of Tony.

Only Steve notices Thor quietly leaving the room.

Tomorrow morning, as Natasha and Clint nurse their headaches and glare at Bruce for not having one courtesy of the Serum, Thor tells them that he talked to the valkyries as well as his niece, Hel, and that they've all assured him that Tony is not yet due for either of their respective domains. Bruce translates for Natasha and Clint, whose hangovers have made it all the more difficult for them to understand Thor-speak, that Tony won't die just yet.

The news, apparently, calls for the mead Thor brought from his home.

Neither Steve nor Bruce point out the tiredness in Thor's expression, nor do they ask if he spent all night traveling between realms to obtain the assurance that their teammate won't die.

..

It's 1981, and Tony's kidnapped by terrorists who demand the person behind the new weapons SI's been producing.

(All of Tony's designs were submitted under the pseudonym Charles Ritchie because Howard flat-out refuses to take credit for his baby girl's work. Few people know about Charles Ritchie—the public only knows that SI's hired an engineering genius for its latest line of weapons—and Howard's even forged official documents in case the government snoops around.)

Howard doesn't sleep, barely eats and drinks, and has refused to attend any business meeting until his daughter's fucking found, and _damn it, Obie, now isn't the time for fucking business, now's the time to find my _daughter!

It takes eight days for the NSA and FBI—he made _damn_ sure the case went to them both because goddamn it, he's the country's top weapons contractor, and he _refuses_ to build shit unless his daughter's found _alive_—to find her location. It takes an hour to storm the abandoned warehouse—really? _Really?_—eliminate the threats, and retrieve Tony. It takes four hours to transport her from Nevada to the best hospital in New York and for Howard to bring in the country's top doctors and surgeons.

Tony's unconscious, pale, malnourished, and dehydrated. She has scratches and scrapes all over her arms and legs; grime on her hands, knees, and face; infections in at least half of her wounds; a couple of bruised ribs; and a fractured arm.

Howard thanks every god of all the religions he knows of that there aren't any signs of sexual assault.

After the doctors finish treating her wounds, he sits by her bedside and gently holds her hand. He decides then and there that things like this cannot happen again.

For the next six months, he'll use every resource he has at his disposal to found the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. He'll scour the entire globe for anyone who shows potential, regardless of their ethnicity, and recruit them. He'll give them decent salaries, a comprehensive insurance plan for them and, to an extent, their families, and whatever else they may need. More importantly, he'll train the shit out of them until they're good enough to have gone toe-to-toe with _Steve._

Six months later, he'll become the Division's first Director, and by his side, acting as his right-hand man and lieutenant, will be Nicholas Fury.

..

It's 2012, and Tony's yet to wake up.

"Come on, Tony, you're usually more stubborn than this. Wake up," Natasha says during her shift of Tony-watching.

"I'm calling you Natasha until you wake up and make me stop, _Natasha,_" Clint says during his shift.

"Please wake up, Tony. If you don't, who am I going to talk science with all day? Jarvis just doesn't cut it like you do," Bruce says during his shift.

"Tony, if you wake soon, I swear to you on my name and on Mjölnir herself that I shall cease to call you Lady of Iron and endeavor to call you _Man_ of Iron as is your name," Thor says during his shift.

"The doctor says you probably won't wake up. Please, _please_ prove him wrong, Tony. You're good at that," Steve says during his shift.

Late that night, as the Avengers sleep, Dummy ventures into the infirmary. He chirps and chirrups and whirls in a language only Jarvis and Tony understand, and before he leaves to give Jarvis some privacy, he tucks a strand of stray hair behind Tony's ear and tucks her in so that she won't get cold.

Once Dummy's out of the room, Jarvis says, "Sir, you must wake up, preferably soon. Ms. Potts, as admirably as she is doing as your temporarily replacement, is having trouble with R&D as they are, as she put it, 'lost without you'; Mr. Hogan has yet to win a single one of his boxing matches since you have entered a coma; and Colonel Rhodes is under pressure from his superiors for details of your condition that he refuses to divulge. Not to mention that the Avengers are now greatly disadvantaged without their second aerial support, and …

"… And Dummy and I miss you, Sir. Please, wake up soon."

..

It's 1985, and Howard learns from Tony's tutors that his daughter passed the GED test with flying colors and slammed the proof of it onto their desk after which she dismissed them permanently.

Apparently, Tony doesn't like her tutors and sees them as smart-asses who think that they're smarter than her when she's far, far ahead of them and proved it many, _many_ times.

Howard laughs, that is, until Obie reminds him that Tony's only eleven and certainly not ready for college. She hasn't even spent that much time with kids her own age since her genius made it difficult for her to attend school, much less interact with her peers.

That sobers Howard up.

He spends rest of the day researching and "donating" to a certain school in New York's countryside. It takes a few weeks to get the logistics and some kinks worked out, but in the end, his baby girl will be attending the prestigious Alvin C. York Academy. He makes it clear that if she's ever bullied or feels bullied, he'll ruin the school so damn fast that they won't even have time to call their lawyers.

In the end, though, sending Tony to York Academy doesn't do jack squat. She still keeps to herself and rarely leaves her room, working on devising her own secret code and drawing up designs for SI. She doesn't make any friends at York Academy. There, she's known as the Stark kid, the freak, the dyke, and the hermit. They never say those things to her face, but she's a quiet child and it isn't that hard sneaking around pampered children.

But it's okay. She's a Stark, she's _tungsten._ She doesn't need their acceptance or their friendship. She's too busy for trivial things like that.

It never occurs to her that her classmates isolating her, just plain _ignoring_ her, is a form of bullying. To her, bullying is physical. It's punches and shoves and swirlies and theft of lunch money.

No one's ever told her that not all bullying is physical, that sometimes emotional and verbal bullying can be just as painful and just as scarring.

..

It's 2012, and it's Halloween.

Steve and Thor are on candy-giving duty—not doing so would be bad PR, and since Tony's in a coma, they've all been making an effort to work the press like Tony did—as the others continue their daily Tony-watching duty. Steve and Thor both know that even though Natasha and Clint's existences aren't exactly a secret anymore, their identities still technically are, so the two blonds don't bother asking the agents to switch with them two hours in. They also know that there's a chance the children would insist on meeting the Hulk, so they don't ask Bruce either.

They do, however, have their comm units on them so that if there's any change in Tony's condition, they'll be able to head for the infirmary immediately. As much as they adore their little fans, Tony's a priority.

By the time it's two in the morning, they run out of candy, and the kids, thankfully, stop coming. They all meet in the kitchen for dinner—the doorbell kept interrupting until they eventually gave up and settled for postponing—and Dummy rolls in.

In his claws is a picture, old and worn, and when the bot places it on the island counter, they can see that it's a picture of Tony as a child dressed in what must've been one of her father's suits. The suit jacket pools at her feet as does the white button-down shirt and pants, and she's drawn a crude-looking mustache above her own lips in black marker. It's her expression, though, that's the cutest: Her lips are pursed, and her face is twisted in what they assume was meant to be a stern expression, except it falls incredibly short and can only be seen as adorable, especially because of her chubby cheeks.

It's obvious whom she's trying to emulate.

The picture is proudly pinned to the fridge door with a magnet.

..

It's 1985, and it's been a month since Howard's last heard from Tony. A month of radio silence, a month of Nick telling him they're doing everything they can to track those sons of bitches down, that they're so close, so damn close, to getting Tony back.

Howard trusts Nick, he really does, so when the man tells him those things, he tries hard to believe him. He tries so hard to believe Nick, but sometimes, he dreams of Tony's corpse, bloody and mangled. He dreams of Nick getting to Tony too late.

On especially bad nights, there isn't even a body to bury.

One day, one _glorious_ day, his secretary whispers to him during a meeting that he has a call from a man named Claus. Howard's heart pounds because this is it. Nick only calls him at ten p.m. sharp to update him, so for him to call now means that he has news. They've finally found Tony. The question now is whether or not they've found a corpse.

Howard leaves the meeting. He doesn't pay any attention to Obie—who should be glad, by the way, that Howard continued to do business even with his baby girl missing—and locks the door to his office with strict instructions for his secretary that no one, _no one,_ is to disturb him.

"We found her," Nick says before Howard has the chance to ask the question. "She's alive."

Howard drops the phone onto his desk.

_We found her. She's alive._

"She's in bad condition," Nick continues, and Howard scrambles to pick his phone back up, "but the doctors are sure she'll make it. No long-term damages."

A litany of _Thank God_ runs through his head.

"We'll be back in the US by four-thirty at the latest."

Four-thirty. He glances at the clock, which reads _1:16._ He's got time.

As soon as Nick hangs up, Howard pulls some strings so that when Tony recovers enough, she can go straight to college. Screw what Obie said about socialization. He's not about to risk his baby girl's life _again_ just so that she'll learn to dumb herself down. Fuck. That.

Once he's done—it's a wonder how many doors open for a man whose unhappiness can become a matter of national security—he clears his schedule for the rest of the day and practically empties out an auto shop or two buying all sorts of get-well presents for Tony.

..

It's 2012, and most of the press conferences nowadays are about whether or not Iron Woman is dead.

As Steve and Thor are bombarded with questions, Thor abruptly slams his hands down on the table and stands up.

"The woman of whom you speak is named Iron _Man,_" the god growls, his voice rumbling like thunder, "and the Mistress Death has not come for her, nor will she any time soon."

None of the reporters dare say anything after that, though that might have more to do with the talk-and-die expression Thor has on, and the conference is cut short.

In the limo ride home, Steve asks Happy why Tony's always insisted on being called Iron Man. He knows it was the press that first called her Iron Man when they didn't know who was inside the armor, and once Tony revealed her identity, the press insisted on calling her Iron Woman while she insisted everyone continue calling her Iron Man. He doesn't know why she kept the name, and he's curious.

"Before she told them she was Iron Man, they thought she was a man because the armor didn't have breasts," Happy answers. "And trust me when I say don't bring it up with her. She'll go on for hours about how and why adding breasts isn't aerodynamically sound and that she's not inclined to risk falling to certain death to please anyone. But to answer your question, she kept the Iron Man moniker to more or less rub their mistake in their faces."

Thor chuckles. "Aye, that sounds like something Tony would do."

Steve supposes he should say that everyone's allowed to make mistakes, but he just laughs instead.

Really, it's the reporters' fault. If they didn't keep asking about whether or not Tony died, he may be more inclined to defend them.

..

It's 1988, and Tony's the youngest college graduate in US history. In only two and a half years, she's earned herself two bachelor's degrees, one in computer science and another in electrical engineering. The press claims that she's following in her father's footsteps, spearheading the fight for gender equality. Howard knows for a fact that she's never given a thought about gender equality; she's only cared about designing and building.

Tony's _summa cum laude_, so she's among the first graduates to receive her diploma. He's so proud of her that he smiles enough for the both of them—he's not worried that she isn't smiling; it's only because she's uncomfortable with so many people around—and when the ceremony's finally over, they wait until most of the people are out so they won't have to push their way out through the crowd. Outside, when they're alone and the snow's falling gently, Howard takes the opportunity to take a picture of her, her cheeks red from the cold as she smiles shyly and holds her diploma up.

When they eat their celebratory dinner, Tony announces that she's been accepted into the graduate programs in MIT and will start in January, barely a month from now.

Howard drops his fork from shock. As proud as he is of her, he's disappointed because she'll be leaving again. He's been wanting to spend some time with her—SI's become a powerful empire, one not to be trifled with, so he figured it's okay now to slow down and free up his schedule again—but he doesn't want to hold her back. Reluctantly, he gives his consent, and he must've done the right thing because she's giving him one of her smiles, the ones that he swears makes him fall in love with her all over again despite having seen it so often.

"I expect weekly letters," he says, picking up his fork. She was able to stay home at the Mansion these past two and a half years, but the commute would exhaust Tony when she starts classes. It'd be better for her to move to Cambridge, no matter how much he wants to keep her by his side where she'd be safe.

Thankfully, she hasn't hit the rebellious stage or the stage where she thinks she knows everything and doesn't want her father so involved in her life, so she replies, "Okay, Dad."

Neither of them mentions Maria, who's eating at the table with them, her poise only matched by her impeccable etiquette.

..

It's 2012, and Thanksgiving is around the corner. The Avengers are slowly becoming hopeless, but Jarvis isn't one to give up so easily and neither is Dummy. They know that their creator has survived many other experiences that should've killed her, and they know that she will eventually wake up.

Jarvis has no intention of cheering up the Avengers because although they've endeared themselves to him, they need to learn that Tony Stark isn't one to be separated from her inventions. She lives to create and build, and there isn't much that will keep her from doing so.

Dummy, on the other hand, is more sympathetic, so he takes one of the tablets they use and leaves open medical reports of a certain little girl from 1981 and 1985. For a medical report, it has a surprisingly high level of encryptions, but Dummy is Tony_Stark's creation. He manages to gain access to the file within a few hours, and since Jarvis allows for the file to remain open, Dummy's fairly certain that the other AI is okay with the Avengers finding out, even if Tony_Stark won't be.

The Avengers read and learn about a little girl who survived terrorists both times against all odds. They read and learn about a little girl who's had blood on her hands before she hit puberty. They read and learn about a little girl who had strength that no child should have or need, who refused to break.

They read and learn that Tony Stark is a survivor, always has been and always will be. Unless she's already dead—and maybe not even then—she'll find a way to wake up.

..

It's 1991, and Howard dies.

..

It's 2012, and Tony wakes.

* * *

The name Charles Ritchie came from Charles Babbage, the father of the computer, and Dennis MacAlistair Ritchie, the father of the C programming language.

Alvin C. York Academy is a fictional school.


End file.
